


but the truth is i'm about to lose it

by evildevilgirl02



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Anal Fisting, Fisting, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 18:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1754103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evildevilgirl02/pseuds/evildevilgirl02
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trip worries when Fitz is injured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for blood loss, injury (gunshot wound), violence/fighting (mostly friendly), and mild self harm.  
> This is my first M/M smut piece, so please let me know how I can improve.
> 
> Inspired by headcanons here: http://melindastan.tumblr.com/post/87740560552/skimmons-and-tripfitz

Trip didn’t need an official diagnosis to tell him that Fitz had a broken arm.  Fitz had also lost a lot of blood on his way here.  From outside the lab, Trip watched as Fitz turned weakly and smiled at Trip.  He smiled back.  Fitz had lost a lot of blood and was probably terrified out of his wits, and he needed all the support he could get.  Trip smiled wide, all dimpled cheeks and white teeth and twinkling eyes.  Gave him the support he needed.

Fitz turned away as Jemma injected what Trip suspected was a sedative into Fitz’s arm.  His suspicions were confirmed when she turned around and mouthed _he’s asleep_.  Still smiling, Trip gave her a thumbs up before heading to the exercise room.

He ignored everything else and went right to the punching bag, forgetting to put on bandages or gloves.   _Punch_.  Fitz had a broken arm.   _Punch_.  It was his fault.   _Punch_.  He let Fitz get hurt.   _Punch_.  Fitz could’ve died.   _Punch_.  His fault.   _Punch_.   _Punch_.

“Hey.”

Trip looked up from the black bag.  It was May.

“Want something that can punch back?”  She was smiling.

She was obviously up for it.  “Sure.  How do you wanna fight?”

“Hand to hand combat.”  She had already stepped into the ring.  He joined her, immediately assuming position.

They were both slightly crouched down, surveying each other, seeking weakness.  He aimed a right hook that she dodged easily, shifting back to her earlier fighting stance.

“Heard Fitz got injured today on the mission.”  Her words distracted him enough that he got kicked in the side.

“Yeah, broken arm,” he said, trying to maintain his focus.  Trying, and apparently failing, as May got in another light punch in the shoulder.

Despite the fact that she’d barely touched him, Trip let himself fall down.  The impact hurt a little, but it was incomparable to how his insides felt.

May looked down at him in concern before crouching down beside him on her haunches.  “You wanna talk?”

“No.”  That was when Trip realized that tears were leaking from his eyes.   _Fuck_.  “Yes.”

“Fitz got hurt.”  She said this slowly, cautiously.

“Yes.”

She waited.  Her arms were at her sides, but they weren’t touching her torso, as if she wasn’t sure if she could hug him or not.  He then realized that he hadn’t told May anything else.

“Fitz almost died...and it’s my fault.”  That’s when the tears went from a leak to a waterfall, when snot started coming from his nose, when Trip’s arms were reaching for May.  His center of self-control had apparently shut down.

She had pulled him off the floor and into a hug.  She was shushing him as he blubbered, “it’s my fault...it’s my fault” over and over and while there was something immensely calming about the small hand at his back, it also made him cry harder.  Trip couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard.  Well, he didn’t _want_ to remember.

Eventually, the snot mostly stopped clogging his nostrils and the tears had ceased.  May kept holding him for a few more seconds before pulling away from him and examining his face, apparently assessing damage control.

“Let’s get you cleaned, shall we?”  She was smiling again.  “Before Fitz wakes up.”

Trip was too tired and confused to do anything but nod and follow her lead.

  
  


Fitz blinked his way back to consciousness.  He was in the lab and Jemma was hovering over him.  She looked worried, but otherwise alright.

“Where’s everyone else?”  Memories of the mission came back.  “Is Antoine alright?”

“I’m right here, Fitz.”  And then he was there, with his deep voice and his warm eyes and this strange _thing_ about him that made Fitz feel safe.

Fitz reached out to hug him, only to find his left arm in a sling.  He stared at it, confused.

“What the hell is that?”  He whispered.

“Oh, well, that’s for your broken arm,” Jemma said, not looking at him, checking his vitals and writing something down on a clipboard.

“Is it,” he said, still staring at it.  He was remembering more and more of the mission, how-

“Hey,” Trip said, gently pulling up Fitz’s face so that they were looking in each other’s eyes.  “You survived.  That’s what matters.”

“You saved my life.”  Fitz remembered, vividly, how a scream of “get down!” had been closely followed by Antoine jumping on him, bullets flying _just_ over his back.  Then, just after Fitz had finished his part of the job, a bullet had lodged in his right arm.  After that, Antoine had made sure Fitz had gotten back to the Bus without sustaining any more injuries.

“You saved my life.”

And then Fitz was kissing him, soft but fierce, trying to put in that kiss everything he couldn’t put into words, gratitude and love and something else, something _more_ , and if it wasn’t for the other people here Fitz would have just gone on kissing him forever.

But there were other people here.  Fitz broke off the kiss to see May behind Trip.

“May, hello.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”  She smiled.

He blushed and smiled back.  “Agent May.  He-he saved my life,” he said weakly.

Her smile widened.  “Are you saying you want some privacy?”

He blushed harder, amazed that he had all that blood left over to rush to his face after his injury.

“Doctor Simmons,” May turned to Jemma.  “Do you think it would be possible for Agent Fitz to be released early?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Well, given that he’s released with a responsible caretaker,” Jemma exchanged a brief glance with May and winked at Trip, “it seems more than reasonable to release him right now.”

“Thank you, Doctor Simmons,” Trip said, bowing.  Moments later, Fitz was being carried out of the lab in Antoine’s arms in the direction of Fitz’s room.

As soon as Fitz heard the door close behind Antoine, he pulled himself up for a kiss, locking the door with his uninjured hand.    This kiss was longer, and Fitz was about to add tongue when Antoine pulled away.

“No,” he said.

“But Antoine-”

“You’re injured, and I’m not risking it.”

Antoine laid Fitz down on the bed before joining him.  Fitz’s frustrated face turned devious.

“What?” asked Trip.

Fitz was moving further down on the bed.  With his right hand on Antoine’s crotch, Fitz sat up so that he was sitting on top of Trip, fingering the zipper of his pants.  Before Trip could protest, Fitz was unzipping his pants to reveal Antoine’s hardening cock.  Fitz tsked.

“And I haven’t even started.”

Trip hated how turned on he was when Fitz made that face.  That _devious_ face, the face most people wore when they took dares, the nasty face that Jemma never saw, the naughty, dirty face that Fitz always had before sex.

“Oh, bad boy, Antoine,” Fitz murmured, slipping a finger under Trip’s boxers.  Trip bit his lip in anticipation and tried to remember whether or not the Bus was sound-proof.

With a slowness that was almost _painful_ , Fitz twirled his finger around Trip’s cock.  He hissed.

“Oh, is that a request?”

Trip wasn’t sure that it was.  He _was_ sure that he was getting awfully uncomfortable in his boxers.  His hands twitched at his sides.

Fitz pulled his finger out of Trip’s boxers.  Trip sucked in his lower lip.

“Antoine,” he asked worriedly, “do you want this?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Trip said, grabbing Fitz’s hand and squeezing it.

Fitz made short work of Trip’s pants, boxers, shoes, and socks, planting himself firmly between Trip’s spread legs.  Trip’s dick was now fully erect.

Fitz returned to his place between Trip’s legs before resuming his earlier work, trailing the outline of his boyfriend’s cock with a fingernail.  Trip hissed and bucked, disrupting Fitz’s rhythm.

Fitz pushed him down firmly.  “Bad Antoine,” he murmured, voice barely audible.  “Has to be punished.”  Then his tone changed to be _much_ more commanding, and he was a little louder.  “Shirt.  Off.”

In one fluid motion, Trip’s shirt was on the floor and he was undressed completely.  Fitz trailed a finger down Antoine’s chest, tracing the abs.  Trip felt a tingly sensation where Fitz’s finger was. Then Fitz leaned down and kissed him on the lips, following it up with several kisses down his chest.

“Bad boy,” he said, trailing his tongue around Trip’s penis.  “Bad Antoine.”

Trip whimpered.  He needed to come, and he needed it _now_.

Fitz grinned maliciously.  Trip was at his mercy and they both knew it.

Trip’s whimpers grew louder as Fitz licked his tongue up Trip’s abs.  “ _Please,_ ” he whispered, gasping when Fitz started biting and sucking his neck.

“What do you want?” Fitz said, millimeters away from Trip’s neck.

“Suck me off.  Please.” Trip was shaking, and he was so hard it _hurt_.

Fitz attacked Trip’s neck again, and a small part of Trip’s brain registered that there would be bruises later.

“What...do...you...want?” Fitz repeated.

Trip couldn’t respond, he was too busy trying to catch his breath.  Apparently, that was what Fitz wanted, because that was when he returned his focus back to Trip’s member.

Trip felt Fitz immediately take half of his cock into his mouth, and _fuck_ , that felt so good, what Fitz was doing with his mouth, and in seconds Trip thought he was on the verge of coming.

Then Fitz took more of him into his mouth, and Trip couldn’t take it any more.  He came, right into Fitz’s mouth, and he felt Fitz swallow it even as he saw stars.

After another minute, Fitz slowly dragged Trip’s dick out of his mouth.  His breath was ragged, but he grinned as he looked at Trip.

“Did you get what you want?”

Trip nodded, having learned his lesson about talking.

“Turn over,” Fitz said, slipping off the bed for a moment to make it easier.

With the little strength left in his body, Trip turned onto his stomach.  Fitz, in the meanwhile, had gotten lube from under the bed and was currently covering his fingers with it as he clambered back onto Trip’s legs, positioning himself right over Trip’s ass.

Trip could barely see what was going on, but what he saw told him enough.  “Fitz…no…”

Fitz looked at Trip, concerned.  This wasn’t like him.  Trip held up a finger.

“One minute…recovery.”

Fitz nodded as he continued to put lube on his fingers.  It occurred to Trip that Fitz was doing most of the work.  He would have to rectify that soon.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

With no hesitation, Fitz shoved a finger into Trip’s ass.  He massaged the opening, added a second finger.

Trip’s eyes widened.   _Wow_ , did he miss this.

A third finger sooned followed.   _Damn_ Fitz and his tiny hands.

“Your fingers are tiny.”

Fitz didn’t respond, simply reached down and added more lubricant to his hand.   _Oh._

A fourth finger.  Fitz brushed his prostate.  Trip tried to turn onto his side, but he was firmly pinned down.

“Not yet,” Fitz murmured, adding a fifth finger.

 _It better be soon,_ Trip thought as he felt his penis get erect for the second time that day.

Just as he thought it, Fitz let him turn on his side.  Then he picked up speed, fingers in and out, touching Trip’s prostate more than once.  Then it was his whole fist, fast and unexpected, and Trip gasped as his cum spilled onto the bed in great spurts.

Slowly, Fitz pulled his hand out of Trip’s ass.  He laid a chaste kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.

“Antoine, are you alright?”  There was genuine concern in his voice.

Shivering, Trip nodded.  He counted to twenty before he spoke.

“Your turn.”

Fitz’s surprised gasp was cut short by Antoine’s lips on his.  This time, there was tongue, saliva, the taste of each other, distracting Fitz from the fact that his shirt was getting unbuttoned.

He noticed when they came up for air.  Trip’s fingers were on the last shirt button.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know.”

“I _want_ to.  Do you?”

Trip had already seen the tent in Fitz’s pants, but he looked at Fitz’s face for approval.

Fitz bit his lip and nodded, pulled the sleeves off of his shirt and threw it to the ground.

“How long has it been?” Trip asked, unzipping Fitz’s pants.

“You took off your shirt.”

That felt like a long time ago.  Trip finished pulling off Fitz’s pants and footwear.  “I’m sorry, baby.”  He kissed him as he threw the clothes on the ground.

“Don’t apologize,” Fitz said, watching Trip pull off his boxers.

“Shh, little lion.  Let me take care of you.”

There wasn’t much talking after that.  Antoine took him into his mouth and sucked him off.  He was fast, and Fitz clutched his shoulders desperately.

Fitz moaned as Antoine increased his rhythm, making him even harder.  Antoine’s hands were on Fitz’s hips and he was getting faster and faster, and when Fitz came into his mouth, he didn’t slow down.  He dug his fingers into Antoine’s back as he felt another erection coming on.

“Yes, oh, _Antoine_ …” His words drifted off into gasps as he stiffened and came again, and Antoine sucked it up like nectar before slowing to a stop.

They were both gasping when Antoine pulled himself away from Fitz’s dick and lay on the bed.  Fitz leaned down and planted a kiss on Antoine’s forehead.

“Thank you,” he said as his breathing stabilized, before he leaned back against the wall.  He wondered if he should tell him that that was the best blowjob he’d ever had in his life.

Antoine smiled and rearranged himself so that he could sleep comfortably.  “Come here,” he said.

Fitz joined him, let Antoine wrap his arms around him, leaned his head back against Antoine’s chest.  As Fitz wandered off to sleep, he wondered how he’d ever gotten so lucky.


End file.
